


Kiss So Sweet

by ninhursag



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Captivity, Handprint, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Soul Bond, powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 04:33:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20039980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: "Hands up, mouth shut, Captain Manes," the voice whispered into Alex's ear. There was a gun, cocked and ready pressed to the vulnerable part of his back.





	Kiss So Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> This is the kidnapping semi forced soul bond fic I wanted to write, like you do. I think I'm going to try to do another take on it later.
> 
> Whatever triggers are here are inherent to the premise.

"Hands up, mouth shut, Captain Manes," the voice whispered into Alex's ear. There was a gun, cocked and ready pressed to the vulnerable part of his back.

Alex frowned, mind flickering through options. He could try for leverage. Instep? Soft part of the gut?

The gun was well placed, odds were the guy would get off a shot anyway. The steady professionalism with which it was held meant it likely would get him somewhere vital.

"You're making a mistake," Alex said, calmly, lifting his hands. 

"Be that as it may, you were asked to keep your mouth shut. I don't want to harm you, Captain, but I will." Cool, steady voice. Alex tried to place it. Military? Mercenary?

He let himself be ushered to a black car, dark windows. He was slow walking it, hands in the air, trying for an opportunity to get the jump on the guy, but the opening didn't come. 

Maybe someone saw them? That was a possibility. It wasn't everyday a guy got shoved into a car at gunpoint in the wild pony parking lot.

The man was wearing a ski mask, showing off nothing but pale eyes. Good sign. You didn't hide your identity from a walking dead man.

Alex tried to outmaneuver him when the gun arm came down anyway. One shot, this was it. He got in a hit, elbow to the rib. 

Fucker was better than him, better angled, stronger even with the element of surprise. Got Alex down, knocked the breath out of him. 

The zip ties and the casual way he removed Alex's prosthetic leg were too damned skilled. Alex suppressed a shudder at the hands on his skin. Clinical, but taking away his mobility anyway.

"What's your end game?" Alex asked. "You working for my father?"

"You'll find out," was the response. The man had a syringe out now that Alex was incapacitated.

"You don't need that," Alex said quickly, but he had zero leverage and it went in fast. 

Whatever it was knocked him out in a few breaths. 

He woke up dazed, head throbbing, but otherwise no notable pain. Instinct kept his body still, eyes shut. His hands were still bound with the zipties his captor had got him with.

"Captain Manes, we know you're awake. The timing of the drug is precise." The voice was piped in through an intercom. Distorted. 

Alex let his eyes open a slit. A room, bare, dim lighting. He'd seen them before. Black sites, prisons, no doors. A toilet and sink in the corner. A bare mattress he was lying on. 

Fuck.

There was no one in the room but him. 

"What are you looking for here?" He said out loud. "You think you can pull an Air Force officer of the street and no one comes looking?"

Of course maybe that's exactly what happens. He has no idea who has him, what their clearance is, what anyone else saw. Could be his dad's black ops off the books stuff.

There's no response, not directly. That stupidly calm voice said, "he's alert. Introduce the specimen. It should be ready."

The door opened, slow and heavy, and Alex tried to push up to his feet. Foot. Fuck, he had no prosthetic, no crutches, wrists still ziptied behind his back. He hadn't been this vulnerable in years.

A decade.

Someone was shoved into the room, a tall male figure, in some prison looking uniform, shackled. Bag over his head.

They pulled the bag off and Alex's pulse jumped. No. No. No. And this is the worst thing possible. "Guerin," he hissed. He stared into Michael Guerin's confused hazel-gold eyes.

"Alex?" Michael whispered in response, his voice gravelly and rough. His curly hair was a sweaty, matted mess. The confusion in his eyes didn't ease. No focus. Drugs?

The masked guard unshackled him and paused for a second, looking right at Alex. "Don't look so scared, chair force gimp, this is going to be your little fag wet dream."

Then he was gone, while Alex tried to hop forward, bound hands and all toward Michael. Michael who just stood there, swaying on his feet, confusion clouding his eyes.

"Alex?" Michael whispered again. He shook his head, rubbing his palm against his forehead.

He took his own step forward almost colliding with Alex. The weight against Alex's already unstable body rocking him back.

He managed to stay standing, somehow, but it was a near thing. And Michael was right there now, right on him, keeping his balance for him. He could smell him. Feel him.

His skin was warm and dry.

"It's me, Guerin. How long have you been here?" Where is here? Michael had been around last Saturday for sure, Alex had barely ducked out before running into him at the Crashdown. But that had been days ago. You could mess a person up a lot in days.

Michael didn't look bruised or cut up, just drugged. Fuck.

He blinked at Alex and his nose wrinkled like he smelled something nice. He was all soft tawny eyelashes and smiled with that sweet confusion. The fear he'd obviously felt on seeing Alex fading into that confusion and then something else. 

"Dunno," he drawled, shrugging, and then the smile widened. "But hey look, you're here."

He leaned forward, warm hands still on Alex's shoulders.

Alex's brain seized up. He pushed back, just a little and Michael let him, still smiling at him.   
Michael's pupils were blown. His hands were warm, the warmest skin. And that smile, like they weren't in a prison cell where the sun couldn't reach and unknown assholes were using words like specimen about him.

They knew that Michael Guerin wasn't human, had to. Like the other people they'd kept and tortured and experimented on.

Alex looked around again, assessing. There was a camera right up out of reach.

This was an experiment. What kind?

"Right. Right. I'm here. You're going to be ok," Alex said, like he had any idea how that ok part was going to happen. He'd figure something out.

"I know, sweetheart," Michael said and then he smiled again. Smiled slow and familiar, like honey pouring out of a jar. And he leaned in, so close that Alex could smell sweat and antiseptic and drugs on his skin.

And then he cupped his hands around the back of Alex's neck, curled up just so, pressing their foreheads together. Lips just shy of lips for a moment, for a heartbeat.

The last bit of distance closed and Michael kissed him warm on the mouth, careful and thorough like they were alone in the world. Irresistible. Alex flashed back on 'your little fag wet dream' and Jesus Christ. 

Cold shot through his spine. Everything he wanted, other than the fact that they'd been kidnapped, Michael was drugged and there was a camera. Some wet dream.

"Hi," Michael said, grinning a little, like he didn't notice that part, where they were. Didn't care. "I missed you, airman."

"Guerin," Alex hissed. "Let go of me." 

Michael's smile cracked a little. Still those blown out looking eyes, wet now. Confused. He drew back a little, looking Alex up and down. Inspecting. Trying to comprehend the situation like he hadn't quite before.

"You're tied up," he said, hands finding the zipties. Careful hands on Alex's wrists, touching. Alex shivered. "Alex, are you… what happened?"

"You're drugged," Alex said, as gently as he could. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to widen the tie. He could slip them with enough time, if he got the time.

Michael frowned, brow wrinkling and then shook his head. A thread of anger shifting through the daze. "Did someone touch you? Are you ok?"

"Fine. But this isn't the time to put on a show like lab rats." He squirmed in his bonds and Michael nodded like he agreed.

Then he kissed Alex again anyway. Wide eyes and long lashes. Rough stubble that left a burn. So familiar it hurt. And that voice, low and warm, in his ear, "No rats. You smell so good, sweetheart. You don't smell like anyone else. No one touched you. Just me, right?"

"Guerin," he whispered, shaking, flexing his wrists and looking for the give in the ties. He needed more time, another ten minutes at least. "Michael. You have to listen to me."

"Mmm," Michael murmured. "You smell like you're mine. Let me show you." Michael's hand was pressed against his chest then. Steadying him. Holding him. "Don't be so scared, Alex, you're the bravest person I've ever met." 

He hasn't been scared, what a strange thing to… worried about Michael, but not afraid at all.

And then Michael's warm, warm hand slid under his shirt, and it burned, hot but painless on skin. Glowing, Michael's hand was glowing and he'd seen that before, but never felt. Never.

Never knew what it meant to have that power on your skin, under thrumming through you. Electric. Michael touched him and the world changed.

Because this was Michael, his mind, Alex could feel him, that thin brittle layer of drugged confusion keeping him from reacting right. Chaos.

Brilliant shards of everything.

The bedrock of certainty underneath. Quiet.

The._Oh. There you are._That's where the certainty was coming from. 

He gasped, lips parted, too warm, not enough air and Michael kissed him again, easy easy easy. His mouth, his hand, his mind, all touching and oh… that certainty he was so loved.

This is what it had always been, I was so stupid to be afraid.

_Oh sweetheart,_ Michael's thoughts caressed him, like his hands._There you are. So brave, now let go and let me have you. _

Overbalanced, Alex collapsed down on the bed, hands still under him. He was making a sound, he heard it, not words. Whimpers.

There were cameras, he thought and Michael smiled at him. "Nothing you don't want," the words barely said out loud. 

"I don't want anyone fucking watching, Guerin," Alex hissed, trying to calm himself down. Michael knelt down over him, not looming exactly, but there, close enough to feel the heat of his body.

Just like that the cameras shattered. Concussive force, glass and plastic spraying everywhere, but not toward them.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," Michael said, maybe out loud.

The drug was something he could still feel, burning, overpowering Michael's beautiful, chaotic brain, bringing his scattered flashing thoughts to order. And the order was… him. Thoughts arranged around him, in a matrix. Like he mattered. 

Michael's handprint was burning on Alex's chest. 

Michael kissed it. Hot tongue on skin, electric. Kissed the place below it. Alex's nipple, flat and pink, the line of muscle. His heart was beating too hard, breathing, sucking in air.

_Wait. Stop. Please._ As if asking someone to stop meant that they would, but it was easier to bite back words that wouldn't be heard than thoughts.

But Michael heard him, felt him, right there. He stopped. _Whatever you want, sweetheart. Only what you want._

Alex breathed out, shaking on the bed.

The part of Alex that had just had a gun held to his head to force him into a car to an undisclosed location screamed at him and that meant it was screaming at Michael.

This is an experiment, his mind yelled. They drugged you, they expected this, they want something. They chose me to get to you.

And Michael smiled at him, that honey slow slide of a smile. "Right. They wanted to see what would happen if I marked you. If they could use you against me. That was their mistake." 

Alex didn't get a chance to ask, to even think the question. The walls shook. 

The walls shook and the lights broke and the ties binding his hands snapped with a painful slap of skin. It hurt, feeling flooding back into sore muscle, but the pain faded beneath Michael's touch.

Michael frowned, running his fingers over a bruised wrist.

The door to their cell shattered. Someone, somewhere screamed. 

Alex jumped, struggling to sit up, but Michael's hands held him down. He didn't push back, just collapsed back on the bed.

His mind was chaos. Michael's chaos, his hands, his mouth, warm on Alex's body. 

"They made a mistake if this was an experiment. I'm a lot stronger with you, Alex."

Michael's beautiful eyes were glowing and he smiled. Helplessly, Alex smiled back.

Let himself be kissed, kissed back hard, wrapped his arms around Michael's neck, one good leg around Michael's back.

"Look at you," Michael whispered, half in his mind, half out loud. "You're mine." 

Alex let his nails dig into the soft skin of Michael's neck. "I always have been." Since this beautiful idiot had taken his fucking virginity in high school and paid and paid and paid for it. Maybe before then.

Michael's eyes shone and the mark of his hand glowed on Alex's skin.

Somewhere else, in an underground control room, a man with calm blue eyes sat down at a conference room table.

"It worked," he said. "The specimen took the bait. Pretty cold though, Captain Manes is a fucking war hero and you're feeding him to an alien."

The other man, close cropped hair and a thin, bitter smile nodded. "He knows what it is. We're not responsible for his poor decisions."

"You're sure that we'll be able to handle the consequences?" The calm man responded. 

"Oh, I have no doubts."

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate and adore feedback of all kinds!
> 
> Please come and talk about feelings with me haha.
> 
> You can also find me as ninhursag at dreamwidth https://ninhursag.dreamwidth.org/ or ninswhimsy on Tumblr


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